


Between Midnight and Four Thirty

by Missy



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Blackouts, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/M, Handcuffs, Humor, Power Outage, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Halloween dawns, and Amy and Jake are stuck alone at the precinct while the rest of the squad are off attending to calls.  Let's just say Jake's idea of passing the time leaves much to be desired for Amy...at first...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Midnight and Four Thirty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amathela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/gifts).



> Written for Tag Exchange in '13! Please note, this fic was written using characterisation used and introduced over the first eight episodes of BNN, and if any changes are made over the course of the series they are not reflected in this story.
> 
> Hope you like it, amathela! I used six of your suggested tags.

It was a gunmetal-gray early evening outside the window, and calls were pouring into the station in spurts of five. That was light for a Halloween evening, they were informed by their chief; once there had been a riot at the high school’s production of Ichabod Crane – and in the resulting food-coloring coated melee they had lost four cruisers. Tonight’s case load had been mild. Half of the squad had been dispatched to street patrol earlier in the evening, sent off to various assorted locales in the borough, forced to pull cats out of trees and helping nuns wiggle bottles of Colt .45 out of locked liquor coolers.

Amy Santiago wasn’t among them. She had instead been assigned to desk duty, fielding calls and tracking down information within the cavernously empty station. That suited her just fine, even after the experience she’d had the previous year she hadn’t really cottoned to Halloween. Though she ached to show her talent as a competent officer out in the field, there would be other days for that – and following the Captain’s orders was paramount. She was safe and warm for the moment, and she had pilfered a portion of Terry’s candy supply to ease the hours of mind-numbing paper pushing.

“Yo, Santiago! I have your croissant.”

And at least she wasn’t alone.

“Peralta,” she grumbled, eyes locked upon her monitor and her hand extended. When the pastry flew toward her face she managed to snatch it when it hit her chest – and just a second before it bounced to the floor.

He stood there, standing at her, confusing squashing his features flat. “I thought it would bounce a couple of times when it hit your boobs. Weird.”

“I don’t have any time for this. We have four cases open, two of them need more legwork, I’m stuck at this desk until the Captain comes in with the night shift. And why would you think that? Croissants don’t bounce.”

“But your boobs do!” Amy had the pastry tucked between her lips, and she pointed Jake the way back to his homebase. “I was aiming for your boobs,” he repeated, earning him a death glare which was blithely ignored. 

“Go back to your desk and finish your paperwork,” she demanded.

“No, YOU go back to your….” He snapped his fingers. “

And then he did exactly as she bade.

*** 

Three hours later, they had absolutely nothing left to do and two hours left on the clock. Jake had been entertaining himself by whipping pencils toward the soundproofed ceiling tile, while Amy re-organized her filing cabinet twice. Amy treasured the quiet while it was at hand; Jake wasn’t the kind of guy who enjoyed silence and naturally he spoke up after a couple of moments of quiet.

“Hey Santiago,” he said suddenly. “Catch!”

She automatically ducked, both hands flailing upward in a self-defensive move, and then regretted her sense of preservation when she heard the spring-loaded ‘click’ of a pair of handcuffs triggering closed around the slim line of her wrists.

“Two seconds!” Jake said. “There’s a new record!” He clicked the opposing cuff closed around.

“Funny.” She said coldly. “You’ve got the keys, right?” Utter silence passed between them. 

She stared at the manacle imprisoning her wrist, tracing the line of wire back up to Jake’s wrist. “There should be a panic button on the back?”

That was when the electricity flickered off. 

**** 

Jake was the one who located a big, bright red pillar candle in Diaz’ drawer. Amy strenuously avoided thinking about what Rosa might have been doing with it as he lit the match and she started working on the lock binding them together with a bobby pin. It was the most obvious solution she could call to mind with the minimal supplies they had on hand, but her grandfather had told her more than once that it would do the trick if she ever found herself locked up beside a perp.

Four tries in Amy found herself questioning her granddad’s wisdom for the first time in her life. “Damn it!” she growled. “This worked all the time on Cagney and Lacey!”

“It’s probably because the sizes aren’t matching up, and am I the only person who works here that’s never seen that show?”

“My grandfather liked reruns,” she said. “Do you have any idea how to get us out of this one?”

Jake rubbed his chin. “Yesss?”

“You have no clue,” she deadpanned.

“Oh, I have clues.” He blew a raspberry. “I even have inklings!”

Amy waited impatiently for him to say more, but instead of speaking he acted, pulling her toward the break room. “Where are we going to…” She trailed off as Jake yanked her toward the cabinet area, upending bottles until he pulled out a half-full bottle of cold duck.

“Why are you dragging out the leftover wine?” It was a relic, but being wine wasn’t likely to have gone bad over a year’s time. 

Jake shrugged. “My watch says it’s eight and we’re both totally off-duty.” He started pouring them half-cups of booze. “And until the backup power supply kicks in we’re both gonna be bored out of our minds.”

“You’re going to drink in the station. Right next to the Captain’s office. Do you realize how insane that sounds?”

“Insane buuut not boring!” He grabbed one of the half-filled cups and presented it to Amy. “Are you going to be cool?”

He couldn’t have asked her a more pointed question. “I’m ALWAYS cool! They called me cool-am-ee back home.” He frowned at her. “Please give me my drink.” 

Jake wiggled his eyebrows as Amy took the proffered cup, then picked up his own. When he took a sip of the wine, his features creasing in pain. “It’s really…full bodied?” he choked out. 

“I’m not drinking that,” she said, setting the cup aside.

“So you’re not cool?”

Amy’s features settled into a determined scowl and she lifted the cup to her lips…

**** 

“Oh – oh my God,” Amy burped. “This is the greatest wine I’ve ever had in my life.” They had adjourned with the bottle to her desk, where they’d managed to slug down half its contents in the span of a half hour.

“I KNOW!” Jake yelled. “It makes colors brighter and people funnier!” 

Amy was aware that she was shouting, but she felt too good to stop. “It makes me want to dance!”

Jake suddenly lurched away from his seat on her desk and pulled a stuffed hamster off of Jefford’s desk. A smack to its head made it burst forth with a line or two of the Macarena, and between hamstery bursts of mock-Spanglish seductiveness Jake pulled Amy with him into a slow dance. 

After they’d spent another ten lurching, drunken moments dancing in the opaque darkness, Jake muttered “Uh…Amy,” wetly into her ear. 

Amy pushed him away from her gently. “…Did you just call me Amy?” 

He frowned at her. “Yeah? It’s your name, right?”

“Yeah.” Another moment or two of lurching. “Amy what?”

“Oh! Thanks for tonight. It was pretty cool for someone as unfun as you. No offense.”

“Well, you’re not so bad either for a guy with no impulse control and a mold stain shaped like Robin Williams as Missus Doubtfire in your locker. No offense.” She stared into his eyes as they awkwardly danced around the desks littering the precinct’s floor, stopping consistently at Jefford’s desk to smack a few more notes out of the hamster. “Jake?”

“Amy?”

She grabbed him by the lapels. _“Jake!”_

The kiss was sloppy and frantic, and when Jake pulled away from her his voice was little more than a squeak. “Santiago!”

“Call. Me. Amy,” she demanded between kisses.

“Heh, Amy, what a dumb…” He trailed off under her persistence, kissing her back, sliding his tongue between her lips.

*** 

Amy had to give Jake credit. Spontaneity could be fun, under the right circumstances, and with the right person – she just hadn’t seen it before tonight.

“Hey, Amy,” he said, lips mashed against her hips. “Race you there.”

“Huh-uh…” she breathed, groping over his chest. “You’re going down first, Peralta.”

“Trying to. But bet you not.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yah-huh.”

“Dare you.”

She dared him.

He acted.

She’d regret the nightmare hangover and the inexplicable mess that was her desk in a few hours, but not this new connection with her partner.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **Brooklyn 99** , all of whom are the property of the **Universal Television**. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
